The Clockwork Garden
by Renoku
Summary: Chicago, 1893. The World's Columbian Exposition is about to begin. Unbeknownst to the people, a dark invention will be unveiled. Seraphina recruits the help of Jack and Aster in order to stop the madness lurking within the machinery. The fate of the world depends on them, for if they fail, time as they know it will stop, and the world will cease to exist. Steampunk AU; Jackrabbit
1. Prologue

Listen. Do you hear that?

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

No? Then listen closer.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

That is the sound of the world's heartbeat. It is a hollow sound, echoing with the ancient gears of time. Since the world began, the ringing seconds have ticked by, never counting down, only counting forward. For all eternity, that sound will carry on, maintained by the very existence of life.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

Close your eyes. Imagine only the sound of the clock. Can you feel it reverberating through your chest? Now, add to that sound, as your ears strain to hear more. Imagine the sound of creaking metal, the dull _lub-dub_ of the double heartbeat. Hear the springs squeak out every fine-tuned note of time continuing. The small pings of metal, as they work out the small chinks in the world's armor. Steam pours into the air, whistling a melody of machinery. The hum of the world surrounds you. And above it all, you hear the shifting of sand, flowing through the cogs of life, cycling through the seconds of time. Take it all in.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

Open your eyes.

Gold. It is all you see; everywhere, you see golden hues of radiance. Look past the color, to smell the fragrance of sweet machine oil. The motor humming with its gold smoke, bronze gears turning out their purpose in the world.

This is the Clockwork Garden.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

There is not much time left. For, even as eternity extends, change comes upon the world. A heartbeat might still, even for a moment, and return with such ferocity as to bring together a new world. A new garden, one might say.

Stories tell of this legend, the Clockwork Garden. Written in black ink, tales spin the image of golden sand. The gardener, protector of the world, and the sand of flowing time, resides within this realm. He is the sole keeper of the machinery that provides existence to the world. And he hides away, toiling in his joy, his dreams of the life he's created through the gears. As they turn, they turn, they turn… and they count out the seconds of eternity.

The man loves the dreams he forges in time.

* * *

**A/N**: So this is the first part of my submission to Sweetfrost and Disobedience's RoTG 1800s Steampunk AU! :D It's going to be an eight-chapter fic, with a prologue and epilogue. So that's ten parts altogether. Don't worry, there will be actual characters in the next chapter. :3

Remember to enter the contest yourself! The deadline is October 10th!

I hope you enjoyed this, and reviews are always appreciated!

~Renoku

Also, if I don't finish this by the deadline, I'm still going to complete it. And Learning to Live is not dead! It's on a minor hiatus for this contest, and then possibly for NaNoWriMo.


	2. Chapter 1

The only sound in the near-black London air drifted through the window of the attic workshop. Tinkering, the subtle clank of metal, echoed throughout the room. A wrench tightening that screw, the creak of gears yearning to be set into motion, and the symphony of creation emitting from the work of one young man, bent over his workspace. Around the room stacked various part of metal, shelves of prototypes and abandoned projects. A single, dull electric lamp sat on one shelf, propping up a leaning stack of aging workbooks and yellowed papers marked with ink. Springs littered empty spaces around the room, and rusted cogs piled in the corners, forgotten for the moment. The shadows cast upon them wavered in the firelight of the blowtorch welding away at the workbench. Motor oil stained the floor, trailing up the bronze plating of the machine. It smoked, sending an acrid scent into the air, steaming off of the creator's arms.

He bent over his work, the blasting firelight reflecting off of his goggles. The flames welded together the wires, the delicate details forming together into one piece of invention. A bronze staff, like a shepherd's crook, open near the curve at the top, rested on the workbench. The creator burnt into a large tank hung from the staff, wrapped around the cylinder like a coiled battery pack, filled with nothing but gears and steam.

The fire flickered off at once.

Letting a long sigh escape his throat, the young man leaned back, pushing up his goggles. From underneath his stark white bangs, blue eyes glittered triumphantly. Black dust lingered on his skin, soot and motor oil staining his face. But the familiar dirt didn't deter the grin stretched across his face. Instead, the scent of molten metal and heated fuel filled his mind, clearing his mind to the task before him.

A pale arm, streaked with oil, wiped across his forehead, and he set the blowtorch down on the workbench. He stretched, groaning as he leaned back in his chair. His back cracked lightly beneath his large work overalls, the brown cloth stained with grease.

"Yes!" he cried, as he flung his hands back, letting his body fly into abandon.

Suddenly the chair tilted back, and the young man's eyes snapped open in panic. He groped at the air around him, to no avail, and the chair crashed back onto the floor as his limbs flailed about.

"Ugh," the man groaned. He picked himself up on one forearm, his other hand going to his head. His goggles jammed into his skin, the edges digging into his forehead.

"Jack?" a muffled voice called from below. Suddenly, a trapdoor opened up in the corner of the room, and a head poked in. "Jack! Are you alright?"

The new arrival climbed up into the attic, scrambling to his feet. He towered in the small workshop, his head nearly brushing the ceiling. His grey hair spiked in the front, and a small beard dusted his jawline. Emerald green eyes gazed down at the younger man, concern shining in the dim light.

"Aster!" Jack exclaimed. "I'm alright, I just fell. Help me up."

Without any hesitance, the taller man reached down to take Jack's arm. He hefted him up to his feet, and reached a hand out to steady him by his shoulders. Jack murmured his thanks softly, brushing off his hopelessly dirtied overalls.

"What're you doing up here so late, Frostbite?" Aster asked, undeterred by the state of Jack's sleepless appearance.

Heavy bags hung underneath the younger man's blue eyes, but they faded with the pure excitement that radiated from Jack's expressions. The boy nearly bounced with joy at Aster's question.

In a rush, as if the words would become rusted if he took another breath, he burst, "I'm almost finished with it! The staff! I've been working all day on it and I couldn't stop, Aster, I couldn't! You won't believe–"

"Woah, mate, slow down," Aster's accented voice cut in, "What are you talking about?"

"The staff for the examination!" Jack retorted, agitated by the interruption. "I've been working on it the entire year, and I'm almost finished!"

"But the exam isn't until May, Jack. We have more than a month!"

"Never hurts to get ahead," Jack cheekily replied. "Want to test it out?"

The suggestion brought Aster pause, and he seemed to wrinkle is nose a bit. Perhaps the dust began to take affect as he thought, but Jack continued undeterred.

He took the taller man's wrist in his own, not taking notice of the way Aster tensed.

"Here," Jack rambled, "I'll show you. You see, this big casket is the main chamber. The gears are just simple clockwork, really, nothing Manny would be too impressed with, but at least they turn, right?" He laughed at his own joke, before looking back at Aster.

The man's eyes seemed distant, his emerald gaze dropped down to his wrist. Jack followed him, noticing his hand around Aster's arm. His pale grip broke from the tan skin like a rusted vice, and Jack shoved his fingers deftly into the deep pockets of his work clothes.

The movement snapped Aster out of it. He blinked, shifting with the shock.

"Uh, right, mate," he cleared his throat, "So… what does it do?"

The thin cylinder rested precariously on the table, dubious in its power, and yet Jack's eyes shown with pride as he looked down on it. The large chamber near the crook hung like a metal sack from the skeleton, the end funneling open in spouts along the crooked arc. It looked like the back of a metal beast, shafts of tubing wrapped except for the large, cumbersome openings.

Jack smirked at Aster's question.

"We're about to find out."

Before leaving the anxious observer with that heartening answer, Jack clarified, "It's supposed to extremely alter temperature, both to hot and cold. The chamber sucks in the air, and then the steam is created by different amounts of friction. That makes the heat. The cold was… harder. I just hope I got it right." Jack gestured to the pronged spouts along the crook of the staff. "This is where the heat comes out, or the cold. It focuses everything into a point." He paused to look up at the man, expecting a criticism of sorts.

Aster nodded methodically. "Alright, so what're we going to do?"

A grin broke across Jack's face. "We," he began, "are going to turn it on."

With those words, he slapped the cover down on the main chamber, and grabbed a crank on its side. A few rounds of it, and it began to rumble lightly. Sparks began to dart across the metal surface, the arcs of electricity lighting up the room. The staff began to vibrate, sending tremors through the workbench. Quickly, Jack hoisted leather straps across the ends of it, securing it to the table.

"Should've thought of that sooner," Jack muttered as he backed up, pulling his goggles over his eyes.

Aster stood, dumbfounded, before Jack grabbed his arm, yanking him back roughly. The older man looked back at him.

"It runs on electricity?"

"Think I've got a better hold on it than that Edison fellow. Not that much better; just a touch."

The rumbling grew louder, but Aster raised his voice and scoffed, "You Americans are so arrogant!"

"I could say the same for you!" Jack nearly shouted, as the roar of the steam chamber began to fill the air.

The workbench clattered, bouncing on the attic floor, no doubt hammering to the inhabitants beneath them. The gears clanged loudly, bouncing securely in their places. A low whine filled the air. Slowly, the whine grew into a shriek, building in a crescendo of electricity in overdrive. Clouds of steam poured from the spouts, and Jack raised his arms to shield himself.

"Watch out!" he shouted, wrenching back Aster's shoulder.

The man turned around just as an explosion burst from the machine. Aster whipped around to shield Jack, his back faced to the blast. Jack's nails dug into his shoulder as a white light filled the entire workshop. It bled into the walls, shining from the window with the power of a sun, and it locked their eyes shut from the force. The temperature dropped rapidly, the chill setting into Jack's fingers, and they began to shiver, releasing slowly from Aster's skin.

Steam billowed throughout the room. As it cleared, Jack and Aster blinked the spots from their eyes. Moonlight filtered through the shuttered windows, the pale beams dancing across the wreckage.

Ice glittered on the far wall. Large chunks of the luminescent crystal jutted out from the surface, like glittering cliffs of diamonds, frozen beyond melting. But even as the light hit it, Jack could see the droplets of heat shifting down the sides.

"That was… unexpected," Aster commented, raising a hand to clutch his neck.

Jack glanced at the man, blue stars still blocking the corners of his vision. Through his impaired sight, he saw the Aster's awed expression, the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

He shifted his gaze away, and admitted, "I guess it still needs some minor adjustments…"

"Is the staff alright?" Aster asked, hesitantly taking a step forward.

The invention remained unharmed, except for a large patch of ice across the edge of the crook. Gingerly, Jack reached out for the clasp locking the casket in place. It felt cold to the touch, freezing in his fingers. The ice crumbled weakly in his grip, tumbling to the floor in small chinks. Locking his jaw firmly, Jack lifted the hatch.

Rolling clouds of steam burst from the container, swelling in size to the ceiling. It spread throughout the room, a chill permeating every crevice. A shiver ran down Jack's spine, connecting to his limbs, as the cloud rushed into his face. The loud wisps of steam roared past his ears, streaking his face red with the cold. Coughing, he fanned the cloud away, the numb burn beginning to itch his skin.

Frost crept across the lone glass lantern, dimming the light in the room like stained glass. The inside of the casket was frozen solid. The gears stuck out from the jagged explosion of ice, their delicate teeth chipping from the cold. The wires were snapped in two from the flash freeze, the loose copper ends suspended in the solid mass.

Jack gave a weak grin. "I... I think it'll still work," he muttered, hesitantly reaching a hand out to the container.

Aster's grip clamped down on his arm before he brushed the ice. "You've got some dry burns on your skin, mate."

Jack followed his concerned gaze to his arm. Red welts stood out on his pale grease-stained skin, blaringly bright even in the dim lighting.

"What about you?" Jack countered, peering at Aster's shoulders.

The man shrugged away before Jack could get a good look. He stretched the motion off, yawning, "Don't worry about me, Frost. God, I'm tired, we should get some sleep."

The younger man raised his released wrist to his chest, clutching it gently. "But, my staff–"

"We can deal with it tomorrow," Aster refuted. "The Spring Ball is tonight, and you need to get some rest or Manny'll lose his head."

"Tonight? What time is it?"

"It's nearly six in the morning, you gumby."

"Oh…" Jack murmured. His grip tightened as he looked back at the staff. "I guess… I could let it thaw for today…"

"Damn right you can," Aster muttered under his breath.

The taller man stalked over to the trapdoor that led down from the attic. The door was frozen lightly on the latch, but Aster only scoffed before kicking it. A loud crack rang through the workshop, echoing with the tinkles of broken ice as they skid across the floor. Mumbling vague obscenities beneath his breath, the man reached down to pull the door open. He began his descent, and then looked up at Jack, who stood still next to his invention.

"You coming, mate?"

Jack stole one last glance at his frozen creation, glittering lowly in the webbed light of the lamp.

"Yeah, I'm coming."

He reached over to the shelf to switch off the electric light, shivering at the cold settling up his arm. Then he made his way to the door, climbing down the steep ladder to the floor below.

Aster sent the rungs back up into the ceiling, the string cord dangling haphazardly in the dark hallway. Neither of them bothered to turn on a light, knowing the building well enough to navigate.

"Good thing we sleep on the top floor, eh mate?" Aster asked, green eyes glittering in the near darkness.

Jack didn't respond, staring quietly down at the ground.

"Jack? You alright?" Aster inquired, placing a hand on Jack's shoulder.

"What?" the man jumped at the contact. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

Another moment of quiet passed between them as they made their way down the hall. Jack could feel Aster's inquisitive gaze on him, but turned his face away. The raw skin on his arm began to itch, so he clutched it tighter to his side, rubbing it gently.

In the silence, Aster voiced, "Does it hurt? The ice?"

"Not too bad," Jack answered quietly. He looked over at Aster's dim silhouette. "You took most of the blow for me."

A huff of laughter escaped Aster throat. Jack let his gaze follow it, imagining the puff of air like a warm trail in the darkness, colored the dull red of heat.

"Nothing I can't handle," the man remarked. Another moment passed, and Jack swore he could here the gears turning in Aster's mind. He wanted to reach in there like the casket of his staff, try to see how the man thought. Four years, and still Aster's silences left him confused. Finally, the man continued, hesitantly, "Do you think it'll work again?"

Jack almost had to smile, and he replied, "It'll be fine. It faced even worse when I was trying to alter the _heat_."

Another laugh left Aster's lips. "It really is amazing, Jack. What do you plan on doing with it?"

"I'm not entirely sure," the younger man murmured. "I can't really see it of any use on a large scale. I doubt I'd make another – it's really just for show."

"Figures," Aster scoffed, "You Americans never think ahead."

Jack shot a glare at Aster. "That's two jabs in one night," he pointed out, teasing a little. "What about you, then? What are you planning for the examination?"

That stopped Aster. The man continued in quiet once again, and they both stalked down the dark hallway.

"I don't have a clue," Aster suddenly stated, his voice cutting the sentence short in a blunt answer. "I've got the ideas, but when I try… I don't think I'm really cut out for clockwork."

The last words resounded throughout the hallway, fading into everything. The self-doubt seemed to shake the entire building, Manny's guild sensing the betrayal in those words.

"You know," Jack began, looking around himself in the darkness, "You could always change your major." The exhaustion from the night's work was beginning to tug on his eyes. He rubbed at them methodically.

"Again?" Aster reiterated. "I've barely gone the entire semester! First I tried music, then acting – that was a bloody train wreck – I thought I could do something with my hands… Let's face it, Manny's this close to chucking me out of here."

"What about that easel you keep in the dorm?" Jack asked. Yes, he really did feel tired, and his feet began to tread on the carpet, leaving oily footprints in the dark to join the countless stains that shown in the daylight.

Aster shrugged, his arm brushing up against Jack's. At some point, he's trailed closer in the black. "Painting's just a hobby. I'm not really good at it."

"Don't say that," Jack began. Suddenly, a yawn built up in his throat, and he stretched. His fist bumped against Aster's face, and he flinched away. "Sorry," he apologized, and then continued, "You're really good, Aster. I've seen your paintings."

The man chuckled. "Thanks mate, but I'm not too sure."

"Well I'm sure you'll figure it out," Jack stated. He blinked once, slowly, before his deadweight feet finally stumbled.

Aster yelped as the boy fell against him, but he caught Jack and righted him back on his feet.

"Christ, Jack, how're you going to dance tonight?"

"I wasn't exactly planning on it."

* * *

The ball was magnificent. Golden streamers hung from the banisters, draped between the towering pillars of the ballroom. Metal struts, steel, arched into a towering skylight, pouring the late sunset into the room. Among the warm red and orange hues, bright blue streamers poured from the ceiling. They burst into flame as they fell, disappearing in a flash, like a snowfall of fireworks. No doubt the work of Jack, but the decorations were nothing unique for an apprentice of the distinguished Man in the Moon Guild.

Flowers transformed into being around the room, blooming vines crawling up the pillars and across the banners. The bright buds exploded with color, lighting up the hall with enlarged asters and roses blossoming across the brick and stone workings of the building. The architecture was another creation by a design major, another of Manny's students. Statues set about the room displayed the artistic talent of another apprentice.

Said apprentices milled about the edges of the ballroom dance floor, interacting mildly with the guests. Most of the around twenty college students felt a sheer fear of human interaction.

This emotion was lost on Jack Frost.

As the many guests filtered into the hall, he greeted each of them, bowing politely in his tailored suit. The dark blue fabric complemented his eyes, captivating his temporary audience in their icy depths. His gloved fingers delicately held the ladies' as he kissed the back of their hands gently, and they firmly shook the grips of the gentlemen.

Just as he released the hand of a mildly surprised woman, the wife of a highly esteemed investor, he heard Aster's voice behind his shoulder.

"A little sociable tonight, mate?" the Australian accent breathed gently past his ear.

A grin broke across Jack's face, his vision taken by the fluttering of the woman's deep purple dress as she spun away, disappearing into the growing crowd. He turned around to face his friend. Aster wore a black suit jacket, his white gloves spotless and his green bowtie resting beneath his collar. His usually unkempt hair was brushed, his beard trimmed slightly. His green eyes gazed amusedly down at Jack, who only smiled larger.

"Why shouldn't I be?" he asked in a mockingly informative tone, "We're supposed to be impressing the guests."

Aster scoffed, "Tell that to Auguste over there. Bloke's tripping over his own feet trying to show off his sculpture."

A chuckle escaped Jack's throat. "It's a good sculpture," he defended, looking at the large statue. It depicted a man, his elbow to his knee, lost in thought. "_The Thinker_," Jack mused, "Creative title."

"Not as creative as your snow," Aster remarked.

They both looked up at the ceiling, at the blue streamers flashing into light as they burnt in the air. The paper disappeared nearly immediately, leaving behind no trace of ash.

"How'd you make it anyway?"

"Nitrocellulose film," Jack commented plainly. His eyes shone with a hint of pride, and he couldn't help the swelling in his chest as he looked at the miniature fireworks. "There's not a lot, so it'll all probably run out before Manny makes his speech."

"And you decided to go into clockwork," Aster bantered.

Jack laughed, "It's more fun! And there are still some chemicals involved… What about you? You're flowers are amazing, Aster. How'd you get them to grow so big?"

Aster shrugged the complement off. "That's just how they are; nothing special."

"I'm being serious. Why don't you go into botany?"

"The flower's are just a hobby, mate. Can't make a living off of growing plants," Aster replied.

"You can if you're good enough," Jack replied. A movement from across the room caught his eye. "Oh, look, Elizabeth is going up to start the orchestra. You'd be good at that."

Aster eyed the boy suspiciously. "Good at what?"

"Music," Jack said smartly.

"Mate, have you gone mad? You know I'm rubbish at music! I can't even dance!" Aster exclaimed.

"Are you sure, Cottontail?"

Across the sea of people, the young woman, Elizabeth, walked up onto the elevated platform, addressing her small orchestra. Her white dress sparkled over the crowd, her blonde hair falling in curling locks down her back. Giving a quick, cold look over her shoulder, she raised her conductor's baton, and swiped it down.

The music started up abruptly, he jovial tune filling up the ballroom. Immediately, the guests took up the waltz, ignoring all formalities as they converged on the dance floor.

"Always so quick, that girl," Aster remarked, folding his arms across his chest.

Jack smiled, imitating his friend. He leaned back on his heels with his own arms folded. "She's good," he said.

His eyes flicked up to Aster. The tall man nodded his head to the gentle rhythm, his scruff across his chin accenting his appreciative frown.

He opened his mouth to comment, "She composed this herself, ri–?"

"Would you like to dance?"

His blazing green gaze froze as he snapped his head over to Jack. But the white-haired man wasn't looking at him, nor was he the one who spoke.

The young woman wore black, as if in mourning. The simple yet elegant dress covered her entire body, except for a small sliver of pale skin beneath the collar wrapped around her neck. From her broad-rimmed hat draped a black lace veil that obscured her face. Her eyes glittered just barely through the cloth, and her timidly sly smile peaked out from behind the fan she conveniently held to her chin.

"Surprised?" she asked, hiding her smirk behind her fan.

"Seraphina!" Jack exclaimed, immediately bowing.

Aster followed suit, obviously stunned. He kept his eyes locked on the woman as he crossed his gloved hand across his chest and tilted forward only slightly.

Seraphina seemed to accept the caution, and turned back to Jack. "Would you like to dance?" she repeated, holding out a black-gloved hand.

Aster scoffed, "Isn't it the gentleman's job to ask?"

"I would love to," Jack said suddenly, cutting Aster off. He shot a glare at his friend, accepting Serpahina's hand.

"Excellent," she quipped, snapping her fan shut.

Ignoring Aster's gaze boring into the back of his head, Jack led Seraphina out into the center of the ballroom. He could feel the tension radiating off his friend's body, the trembling in his shoulders as he passed.

As they made their way to the floor, the song slowed down, the violins taking over the elegant melody. Seraphina took Jack's hand, bringing it to her waist, while she settled on his shoulder. Slowly, they began to sway, and then they began to move.

Jack spoke first. "You're back from America so soon. How was it?"

"It was… interesting. It's nice to see the international frontier from time to time," she replied, taking an airy breath in her step.

"But why are you here?" Jack protested. He lowered his voice, and leaned in closer. "Does it have to do with… Manny?"

Seraphina sighed dolefully, "When does it ever not have to do with Manny?"

"When the world comes to an end, maybe."

The woman's grip stiffened on Jack shoulder. A sharp intake a breath drew in her stomach, and she looked down.

"Look around you Jack," she commanded. "This building, this party – the dresses the woman wear are so different from less than a century ago. The jacket on your shoulders was not heard of twenty years before now. And in twenty years more, there will be something more, something new. We are living in a life of progress, of change."

She pulled herself closer to Jack, her body pressed flush against his for a fleeting moment, as she murmured in his ear, "This era is coming to an end, Jack. It is necessary we take… precautions."

His blue eyes flickered, darting across the room. That red dress, like a fire, and that blue one, as soft as snow, the music filling the air, it all faded to background. The details she spoke of to him were lost to his vision, and he fell back. His breath caught; he fell.

Seraphina seized his arms, lifting him. "I've arranged for you to travel to America," she whispered to him, "You leave in a week, Manny knows of this. Watch out for my father, and please," she paused, standing him up again, "try not to freeze the airship; your display in the attic isn't exactly practical."

"W-what?"

Suddenly, Aster appeared by Jack's side, clearing his throat. His arrival was so abrupt that Jack nearly crashed into his chest.

"If you don't mind," the Australian said, "I would like a dance with Jack."

Seraphina smirked, nodding ever so slightly.

"Very well. But try not to step on each other's feet. I'm impressed," she mused, looking between them, "you've definitely become a better man for Jack since the last time we met."

"Oi!" Aster exclaimed, heat radiating from his face. His hands were sweaty, clutching onto Jack's arms. "Get out of here, you drongo!"

"Now Aster," Seraphina teased, "is that any way to treat a lady?"

And with that, she disappeared into the crowd.

Aster huffed, automatically pulling Jack into position. He rested his hand on Jack's waist, gently, but protectively. Jack looked up at him, placing his own hand on Aster's shoulder.

"Are you alright, mate?" Aster asked as they began to move. "You look like you've seen a ghost. A real one, I mean, not just Sera."

"I'm… fine," Jack said, stepping in with Aster's odd gait.

"What did she want anyway?" Aster continued, looking over Jack's head as he scanned the room.

"I'm not really sure," Jack answered, "Something about her father, and Manny."

"When is it ever not about Manny?"

At that Jack smiled. Then a thought occurred to him. "How would you like to travel to America with me?"

Aster's foot crushed Jack's toes beneath his heel.


	3. Chapter 2

The harbor burst with activity. Bustling all around, people pushed through the crowds to meet their ships. The river Thames sparkled in the early morning light, the grey waters taking on a flash of blue amidst the yellow. Steam rolled across the waters, transparent, unlike the green smog of the outlying factories. No, this was clean vapor, the essence of clockwork.

Aster hauled the luggage cart through the unorganized crowds, its wheels rattling unevenly on the cobblestones. Ahead of him, Jack bounded forward, his heeled boots clapping on the streets. The young man gaped at the scene around him, white hair hidden beneath his hood. In his ears he heard the shouts of the sailors loading their cargo. The loud chatter of the passerby rumbled through his body, and as he pulled his thin cloak around himself tighter, he listened.

"Load the next barrel, men! We leave at noon!"

"Did you hear about Marybeth? I can't believe…"

"A woman like her, it's atrocious…"

"Take it through to the harbor, and then set a course for France!"

"I swear if that bastard cheats me at a game of rummy again, I'll bash his head in…"

"Airship docked at the north tower, sir. Making a round trip back to America. Should I ready the cargo for takeoff?"

"Aster!" Jack called back over his shoulder, turning to face the man.

The Australian was sweaty, irritated, and his arms ached from lugging the trunks behind him. "What?" he barked out, a lock of grey hair falling over his forehead.

Jack chuckled, and walked back to join him. "The port is on the top of the tower. Here, let me help."

He reached for the handle of the cart, brushing against Aster's sweaty skin. The man flinched away suddenly, as if burnt. Jack's fingers wrapped around the metal bar, and he looked at Aster curiously.

The man looked startled, gripping his wrist. He said, "You pull, I'll push it. Which way are we going?"

Jack frowned for a moment, but he dismissed his uncertainty. Lifting an arm, he pointed to the tall tower nearest them. High above the earth, two airships hovered next to the structure, roped in by chains and wire to the steel docks.

"How're we going to get up there?" Aster groaned.

"I'm sure there'll be a lift," Jack said, smiling a little.

Grumbling, Aster walked behind the luggage cart, and began to push. Jack felt the jolt of the trolley, and began to tug. Slowly, they made their way to the tower.

"How much," grunted Aster, "did you have to bring?"

"Enough," Jack replied cheekily. "I brought clothes for a month's worth of travel, and I brought the equipment for my staff. I doubt we're staying for the entire fair."

"Did you bring Sera's letter?"

"Of course."

They entered through the double doors into the north tower. The airy space was not nearly as crowded as the outside world, but a large amount of crew dashed around the vast lobby. The ceiling hung high above them, supported by a tangled skeleton of steel struts and bars. Cargo stacked in piles around the room.

Jack tugged the cart across the lobby, as the workers parted to let them through. They made their way to the center of the lobby, where a large elevator stretched up to the docks above. A group of men hefting barrels of food on their shoulders filed in, converging into the steel casket. The operator reached for the lever, and met Jack's eyes.

"Hold the lift!" Jack cried, just as the metal gates screeched shut.

"Dammit," Aster cursed quietly. "Well, it'll be back in a few minutes."

Jack nodded, as Aster approached him. They looked around the lobby, studying the crowd.

"There's a lot of workers here, aren't there?" Jack commented.

It was true; few people appeared to be here for pleasure, or for simply travel. Soot-faced, smoke-stained men clamored about the room, moving and lifting and working to pack the cargo for the ships.

"Makes a living," Aster said, shrugging his shoulders.

Just then, a small figure approached them, dressed in oversized overalls and a cap covering her small head. Despite the coal dust streaked across her clothes and the tattered state of her clothing, a distinct scent of exotic spice followed her, like a wind from the East.

"Hello sirs," spoke the child, her voice American. She balled her fists at her side as she peaked up at them both from beneath her cap. Through her brunette locks, her eyes sparkled violently at them. "What're you in for?"

Aster glanced uncertainly at Jack. "Business," he snapped at the girl. "You should mind your own."

Offended, she crossed her arms. "Fine then," she said, "do you have a few shillings to spare?"

Another glance at Jack, and he replied, "No. Are you lost?"

"Please?" the girl continued, frowning and not at all pitiful, "Just enough for a Coca-Cola?"

"What in God's name is a Coca-Cola?"

At this the girl's fists loosened in confusion. "Don't you Brits have Coca-Cola here?"

"Oi!" Aster cried, exasperated, "Do I sound like a Pom to you? Go find your cash somewhere else, kid!"

"Aster!" Jack stepped in, placing a hand on Aster's shoulder. The man froze, before suddenly falling lax, leaning back against the luggage cart. Frowning, Jack knelt down next to the girl. He met her eyes from beneath his hood. "Here," he said, fishing in his pocket for a few loose coins. "This'll do?"

The girl nodded.

"Go on then, and don't get lost."

"Thank you, sir!" she smiled, her teeth nearly white, and gave Jack a hug. As she turned to leave, she stuck her tongue out at Aster for good measure. "Bye Grumpy!"

Jack laughed at her retreating figure, and fell back onto the luggage cart, landing with a thump. When he turned to face Aster, however, his smile faded at the man's scowl.

"Aster? You alright?"

The man only growled lowly in response.

"Oh, come on. She was adorable!"

Aster remained silent, and looked away, over through the steam clouding the entire tower.

It hung over them as a fog, filled with water ready to rain. The smell of the steam filled their senses, overlaying everything around them. In their silence they heard the turning of gears and the locking of the elevator behind it as it reached the top of the tower.

"What's the letter say?" Bunny asked suddenly.

Noncommittally, Jack pulled it out from beneath his cloak. He unfolded it, the flowing stationary greeting him.

He read:

"_Dear Jack,_

_I apologize that our correspondence at the ball was short-lived. Nevertheless, I have spoken with Manny and have commissioned a voyage for you to America. You will be traveling with a dear friend of mine, the captain of the airship _The Sleigh_, Nicholas St. North. He's a little enthusiastic, but I'm sure you'll get along with him just fine._

_You will find with this letter two invitations to the World's Columbian Exposition. My father is presenting his newest invention, but I believe it's not the safest decision on his part, at least not for those attending. Your job is to prevent him from compromising the Exposition._

_But aside from that, take this as a sort of pleasure trip. I hear Eiffel will be there, the French fellow. You might like his work. Another privilege of your invitation is that you get an exposition booth to yourself, so take the opportunity._

_Just, please, don't destroy anything. The fair _is_ supposed to be a tribute to development and world peace, after all._

_Best of luck,  
Seraphina Pitchiner_"

Jack paused, and read the last line of the letter to himself in his head.

"_P.S. And please, tell Aster to smile."_

Aster nodded methodically, before looking up at Jack. "So what's this invention that Pitchiner is making?"

"It doesn't say," Jack replied, looking into the envelope. "But here are the invitations. I'll hold onto them."

"What do we know about Kozmotis Pitchiner?" Aster mused, "Ever met him?"

"No, but I do know that he used to be one of Manny's apprentices. That's why Sera's so close to Manny."

"Really?" Aster looked surprised, his thick eyebrows crawling up his forehead. "What was his major?"

"Clockwork. He made clockwork dolls, a lot of automatons. Nothing so practical, but still impressive; some of his work is displayed in the gallery."

Suddenly the elevator clamored open behind them. Jack quickly stuffed the letter back under his cloak and moved to grab the luggage cart.

They piled into the lift, with some space left next to their trunks. The operator smirked at the sight of the luggage.

"Going away for a while?" he asked nonchalantly.

"About a month," Jack said from the back, obscured by the trolley.

"That's a lot of luggage for a month."

"It's more than just clothes, mate," Aster muttered. "Take us up."

"Right," the operator groaned, waving off the two.

The metal gates screeched shut, and the operator pulled the lever.

As they began their ascent up the tower, the people below became smaller and smaller, nearly disappearing to specks. Jack gazed through the grating around him, noting the structure of the building. Through the gaps in the walls, which served no service except support, he spotted the cloth skins of the balloons. The hot-aired ships wavered in the breeze, tied to the metal docks with heavy ropes. Steam accumulated around them, like a shield in the air. The warmth flooded the lift, and a breeze rustled through, stirring Jack's cloak.

He felt Aster's eyes glancing at him from the side, and looked over at him. His grey hair wavered in the wind, his stern face in its perpetual pout. Jack met his emerald eyes, and smiled softly. For a single moment, Aster smirked, before looking away through the metal grating.

The rest of the ride passed wordlessly, the lift stopping on the top floor. The screeching of the gates rang out through Jack's ears, but they were nothing compared to the roar of the wind around them. This high up, the air raged through the lofty docks. Almost immediately, the wind tore Jack's hood from his head, exposing his stark white hair. He yelped in surprise before tugging it back down.

"Here you are, sirs," the operator announced, slightly bored. "Don't wander too close to the edge, and have safe trip." The warnings sounded more like routine than concern.

Aster chuffed under his breath, and unfolded his arms to grab the luggage cart. Without a word to the operator, he heaved the trolley out of the lift.

"Thank you," Jack said softly as he passed.

"Wait, man," the operator suddenly called, grabbing Jack's arm. When he looked back, Jack saw the man smiling. "You're welcome. Which ship are you booked for?"

"Er… _The Sleigh_?" Jack replied uncertainly.

The kindness was gone, replaced by sheer disbelief. Suddenly, the man laughed. "Really, now!" he exclaimed, "They take passengers? Well, I wish you the best of the luck with that mess of a crew! It's docked on the north side."

Confused, Jack only nodded in thanks, before running off after Aster.

He spotted the large ship almost immediately. Wooden furnishing along the helm sparkled in the morning sunlight, barely dimmed by the steam around it. Large fins sprouted from its sides, folded neatly along the balloons. The metal pipes burst with steam along the magnificent beast, nearly black against the bright red of the balloons. At the bow, the metal twisted into the form of a gaping maw. From the depths, smoke erupted into the air, sending more wind into the docks. A flag fluttered in the breeze, black except for the white _G_ adorning it.

"_That's _the ship we're supposed to be riding on?" Aster exclaimed, stopping in his tracks.

"That's not a passenger ship."

"That's a pirate ship, mate."

"Ah! You must be who Manny sent!" called out a booming Russian voice.

The broad man made his way towards them, the crew running around the docks parting for him. His coat was a red as the balloons of his ship, black fur lining his large shoulders. With a large smile that curled his white beard, he held out his arms to embrace the two in a bone-crushing hug.

"Ack!" Aster choked, "Who – are – you?"

The man released them both, leaving Jack to heave in air. He bent over his knees in an effort to breathe.

"I am Nicholas St. North! Captain of this fine ship! And you are?" His eyes twinkled beneath his thick eyebrows, a warm kindness in his expression.

After catching his breath, Jack stood straight and held out a hand. "I'm Jack."

Aster kept his arms folded, and added, "E. Aster Bunnymund."

North's smile only broadened. "Good! Nice to meet new people, yes? Come, come aboard!"

Jack and Aster exchanged a glance, before they both took hold on the luggage trolley, and pulled it. They made their way to the dock, a large strip of metal that extended over the edge of the tower.

The ramp looked sturdy enough, and they climbed aboard.

They entered into a metal hallway, with steam leaking steadily through the air. Jack could hear the gears creaking behind the sturdy walls, and he could feel the whirr of the motor beneath his feet. Electric lights lit both ways down the hallway, yellow in the thin darkness. Portholes were open along the outer wall, looking back onto the docks.

"Your rooms will be in the bunkers. We have private room for guests," North said over his shoulder, taking a left in the hallway.

They followed him, the cart rolling behind them along the floors. Both Jack and Aster looked about themselves in awe at the structure.

"Ever ridden in one of these before, mate?" Aster asked.

"No," Jack breathed, his attention caught by the pipes stretching along the inner wall, winding through the frame of the ship.

North took a turn to the right, deeper into the ship.

"Engine room is there," North said, gesturing down a hall that led near the back of the ship. "The bunkers are up these stairs."

Jack and Aster stopped, looking back at their cart.

"Er…" Jack began to voice.

North turned back to them. "What is problem?"

"I'm not sure we can get this up any stairs," Jack said.

North huffed, almost amused. "Nonsense!"

He barged through both of them, and studied the cart for a moment. Then, definitively, he reached up, and brought down the two cases with the clothes.

"Take these," he said to Aster. Once they were gone, he cracked his knuckles. "Now."

He bent down, and took in his large arms the remaining three trunks.

"Hey, be careful!" cried Jack, thinking of his fragile creation.

"No worries!" North called over his heavy load. "This is piece of pie!"

Jack and Aster were left to gape as North carried the three trunks to the stairs. Without breaking a sweat, he began to climb.

"Hurry!" he called over his shoulder, unfazed by the two men's staring.

Aster shrugged off his shock, and followed. Jack shook his head, amazed, and reached for the empty cart, pulling it along behind him.

The next floor was chaos. Hammocks were strung between the posts holding up the ceiling, with pillows and blankets thrown across them haphazardly. And running around the large room was a hoard of children. Shrieks of excitement cried through the air, mixing with the feeling of joy. Light poured through the windows on either side of the room, casting flickering shadows as the kids ran past, some storming the others with pillows, and others fleeing in play. A few slept sloppily in their hammocks, hanging off the edges, on the verge of falling off.

"What in… PHIL!" cried North. Grumbling, the old man crossed to Jack, setting the trunks gently down on the cart.

A large bumbling man ran up to North from some depths of the confusion. He spoke in an odd tongue, somewhat like growling, his mouth obscured by a large bush of a beard.

"Where is Tooth?" North asked accusingly.

"Here, North!" called out a woman.

She darted to Phil's side, her hair an air-blown mess. Green and purple streaks flew through the short cut, and orange goggles held it back against her head. She wore a pilot's uniform, the wool-lined jacket blown up against her body. A wide, hesitant grin plastered across her face, but concern was etched in her violet eyes.

"Has anyone here seen Baby Tooth? I told her to go check on the cargo an hour ago, but she hasn't been back!" the woman exclaimed, looking around herself as she spoke. Just then, her eyes met Jack's.

"Oh! Who is this?" she cried.

"Jack and Aster," North answered quickly. "Tooth, get everyone under con–"

"You two must be the passengers!" Tooth burst, ignoring North, "We're taking you to America, right? Oh, the ride is just wonderful, and so is the ship, you'll love it! Now, open your mouths!"

"Wait, what?" Aster began to ask, just as the woman was on him.

She seemed to leap at him, her fingers prodding immediately. "Oh! Such wonderful incisors!"

"O-oi!" Aster exclaimed.

"And you!" Tooth shouted, moving to Jack.

The young man immediately backed away, shaking his head no, his lips clamped shut.

"Tooth," North commanded, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Make sure kids do their work. I must show Jack and Aster their rooms."

"On it!" Tooth smiled, her attention immediately torn from Jack.

And with that she darted off. North sighed, and then gestured for the two to follow him.

Aster held back to help Jack with the cart, and then he asked, "You have kids on this ship?"

"Not mine," North said. "Orphans. As long as they help out, who am I to say no?"

"But isn't it dangerous to keep them on a _flying ship_?"

North chuckled, "Life is dangerous, my friend. Does not mean we do not live, no?"

At the edge of the room was a set of wooden double doors. North pushed them open with a flourish, opening to a large room.

Two twin beds sat on one side, with a large worktable across them. A window was set above the table, looking out at the dock. The walls were metal, like the rest of the ship, but a decorative rug rested beneath their feet. A white curtain hung between the beds, dividing them. It hung on a track, able to be drawn back.

"This is your room. Make yourself comfortable. Lunch is right after takeoff; do not be late! Now, I must attend to… the children." He spoke the last words with a hint of fear, and a shudder seemed to make his beard stand on end.

Jack smiled as the man left, and then addressed the room around him. He frowned and nodded appreciatively.

"Well then," he began, "time to get to work!"

"Mate, what?" Aster said, looking at him as if he'd just said the ship was about to fall. "We just got here, Jack!"

"I have one week to finish the staff before we arrive at the fair. I need this time," Jack protested.

"But what about…?" Aster stopped at the determination in Jack's eyes. Sighing, he raised a hand to brush back his hair. "Fine, but I'm heading up on deck for some fresh air. You'd better come to lunch."

"I promise, Aster."

The man hesitated. "Alright, now give me a hug."

"What?" Jack asked, his brows furrowing. "Why?"

"'Cause this deathtrap could fall any minute, and I want to give you a hug that doesn't smell like Old Russian," Aster stated, holding out his arms.

Jack laughed, and stepped forward into Aster's embrace. He was right; it didn't smell like Old Russian. It smelled like the flowers at the ball, and the fresh cologne that Aster kept on his nightstand. He breathed in deeply, and released the man.

"Alright?" he asked, looking up at Aster.

The man grinned, albeit a little hesitantly. "Alright, Frostbite."

Jack chuckled at the old nickname, and then waved the man away. Aster smiled even wider, and left.

Sighing, Jack turned to his luggage. First things first, he decided, and reached for the trunk with his staff in it. He hit the locks, and began to unpack.

* * *

A little later, he was seated at the worktable, bent over the casket of his creation. He'd fixed all the damage from the week before, and was now looking for the cause of the error. It had to be the steam generator, or maybe it was just that gear… his mind was addled for the moment, at the constant whirring of the engine around him.

Suddenly he heard a noise behind him.

He whipped around, screwdriver in his fist, to see the girl from the lobby.

"We'll be taking off soon, and we'll be having lunch," she said seriously, violet eyes twinkling.

"H-hi," Jack replied. "Are you a part of the crew?"

"Yep!" she said. "I'm Baby Tooth! And you're Jack, right? I saw your boyfriend Grumpy up on deck. He told me to 'Rack off.' What does 'rack off' mean?"

"He's not my boyfriend," Jack said determinedly.

The girl only shrugged. "Okay, well, like I said, takeoff is in a few minutes. You should come with me to the dining hall."

Jack looked back at his staff. The metal glittered in the light through the window. Outside, he looked through the wispy steam at the lobby. Men hauled cargo onto ropes and nets, using pulleys to haul them up. The commotion was loud, the cries of work and labor reverberating in his head.

"Yeah, okay," Jack said, turning away.

He sat up, leaving the screwdriver behind on the table. Taking Baby Tooth's outstretched hand, he left the room.

"You don't happen to be related to Tooth, do you?" he asked her.

"Yeah, she's my mom. I'm the only one related to her, though. But we're all a family."

"…Does she always look at people's teeth like that?"

"Yeah, she's weird about that."


End file.
